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I have no one to walk me down the aisle, but that is how I want it. I am happy to be the one to give myself away. The last we heard of my father, Gio Lovera had fled the country, betrayed by one of his own most trusted, in-house staff. If I have any cruelty in me at all, it is the part of me that hopes he has fled from the tallest tower, down into some ratty bunker, paranoid and living off food in cans.
I know it isn’t likely. He is still out there somewhere, with however much power and money he managed to bring with him. Maybe he will still be a problem one day, but for now, my family no longer has the cohesion or leadership to be a threat to us.
Among the many faces in the crowd, one is notably missing. Noctus fled across the Atlantic, and though Salvatore has planned our honeymoon to be about us, it is no coincidence our trip and Noctus’s refuge share a destination. Salvatore has one final piece of business to finish while we are abroad. A wedding present of his own, in its own way.
I am sure the opening speech the priest gives is lovely; I don’t hear a single word of it. I am lost in Salvatore’s expression as much as he is lost in mine. The priest skips the part where he would traditionally ask for objections—I can just imagine Salvatore threatening him if he invites any opinions into what he can and cannot do. It makes me smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
Nate is our little ring-bearer, dressed in a tiny tux, and he takes to the aisle like it’s a football field, little feet pounding up the aisle to get to Salvatore as fast as possible.
“Uncle Sal, you’re getting married! Uncle Sal, you’re getting married!” he keeps yelling as he runs, a little man on a mission. My heart might burst with how cute he is, the crowd laughing as the pillow tied with fake rings is flung every which way. He bypasses Marcel, whom he is supposed to hand the ‘rings’ to, and beelines right to his uncle.
He reaches us, his big eyes turning to me, as he gasps and gawks. “Uncle Sal! Contessa is getting married, too!” he says, as if it is the most amazing coincidence in the world. The room erupts. Marcel and Salvatore make a quick, underhanded swap for the real rings.
Lana follows after Nate, showering flower petals along the aisle. The warm laughter of the room falls into a quiet hush as we are invited to exchange our written vows.
Salvatore goes first. My heart skips into my belly when he does not pull out any paper and instead recites from memory:
“I’ve taken many vows throughout my life, spoken and unspoken. I’ve made my promises to every person sitting in attendance here today, and to countless more who aren’t. But I’ve never taken a vow as important as this.”
His gaze latches to mine. I’ve seen this look once before, all those months ago, the first time Salvatore was made to lay his heart bare in front of a crowd, narrowing his focus to only me.
“Almost half a year ago, I saw your artwork for the first time. For weeks, you had filled the upstairs room with profound beauty, and I walked by it day after day, never noticing, because you were always there. And when you were there, I couldn’t look away. I had eyes for nothing else.
But that night, I walked into the room alone, and for the first time, I really looked at what you had created. I knew that if you and I sat down with one of those paintings, we would both describe a completely different image. You would see it your way; I would see it mine. And all I wanted in that moment was to be able to turn around and ask you—what do you see? I stood there and I grieved that I had never asked before, that I had never taken that initiative. That night, I wasn’t sure I would ever get the chance.”
My heart beats in my throat, barely holding back the tears welling into my eyes and pinching my throat. Salvatore does not talk about that night that tore us apart, even between just us. He says he doesn’t want to dwell on it—though I knew he really means it still haunts him in some way. The guilt and the what-ifs. Of all the things I thought he might speak about in front of a crowd, it was never this.
“As I stood there alone, I saw how much patience it all must have taken you and the care that you poured into every small detail. Between those brush strokes, I saw what it is that you do best, Contessa. You love. You color your world in warmth, compassion, and joy. You improve upon everything you touch. You take the crude and you make it complex. You take the unfinished and you make it complete. With your infinite love, patience, and forgiveness, you’ve done the same for me. Without you, I’m just a shadow of the man that you make me. I’m grateful for the strength and grace that kept you true to yourself, no matter how many times someone tried to rip those qualities away from you, because I am made so much better by them.”
Tears slip hot and silent across my cheeks. I fight my own lungs. I suddenly wish more than anything that we were alone. That I could throw myself into his arms right this moment, my composure cracked like porcelain. I’ve never had so many tears in my eyes and still been uncontrollably smiling at the same time.
“I hope you will forgive that my vows, in their essence, are simple,” he finishes, “When you want protection, I will protect you. When you want stability, I will anchor you. When you want power, I will empower you. And when you want to be heard, I will listen to you. As always, I vow to give you what you want. What you have said you wanted all along is a husband worthy of your love. I vow to be that man above all else in my life. I vow to love you, and to learn how to love you, forever.”
The paper in my hands shifts in and out of focus through the haze of tears.
My laugh shakes as I hastily trying to wipe at my eyes, barely able to see. Salvatore offers me the pocket square in his suit, and I have a few precious seconds to get myself together.
The letters still blur at the edges, but I gather myself as I take my turn. I take a deep breath.
“I have spent most of my life believing that I was born into the wrong world. That in some way, I just didn’t belong on the path I was forced to take. But today, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. If I had never walked that awful road, then you wouldn’t have found me on it. I am so grateful to you, Salvatore, because you have given me a place—and it is at your side. Many little girls grow up daydreaming about getting married and being a wife, and I was no exception. But as I got to know you, being a wife was no longer good enough. I only wanted to be your wife. You have been the greatest thing to ever happen to me, sometimes despite your best efforts. When we first met, you swept me off my feet—”
Salvatore’s mouth quirks at the corner as we share a look. I bite down on my smile and continue.
“But I am so honored and grateful to be able to stand across from you today, and to stand beside you, for the rest of our lives. I promise to bring respect and honor to you and to your family, to uphold your values and principles, and to be a source of strength and comfort through all adversity. I will love and cherish you as mine forever, and in return, I will always belong to you.”
Salvatore waits for no man’s permission to kiss me, not even a man of God. The moment the words have left my lips, he sweeps me into the kiss. The kiss that almost carries me away, that blocks out a hundred eyes and every camera, until it is just the two of us in this one moment, bound together.
As the kiss finally dwindles, I feel the brush of his hand, ever-subtle, against the soft, barely-there bump contouring my wedding dress. I glance up into his eyes, biting down on my smile as we share a knowing, private look.
That is a celebration for another day.
THE END
